A Poem: When The Horses Come

When the horses come, white and brave i’ll stay here watching you,

Unless they sweep me up on their journey home,

Mountains passing,

Sea’s crashing

Horses amassing- hundred and thousands of tight, sinewing muscles under black fur pumping and a couple of whites.

Away, away hurtling down a spiky dune path, where the green sticks are battling,

on and on,



Galloping, galloping

Until we open out onto a thick beach and the horses disappear like a dream.

Mine lingers though, on this

White beach. Misty shoreline.

When I see you on a horse next to me, it’s muscles smoking,

I wonder that I could have thought I left you behind when here we are, dreaming of the same horses.

This poem was based on the pictures I took on Cape Town, South Africa. We went on a morning sunrise ride, and were surrounded in this beautiful white mist.

Enjoy reading 🙂

Published by toobusytowrite

My page is called “too busy to write” because we all think we are. Where you’ve been and who you’ve met may be nothing but something to fall asleep on now, but in 40 odd years they will be the stuff you try and remember.

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